


And God did not spare even the Angels who had sinned

by TrashLogic



Category: League of Legends
Genre: F/F, Sibling Incest, aka unhealthy obsessions, angel sisters, kayle you are kidding yourself so hard come on, trash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-14
Updated: 2015-04-14
Packaged: 2018-03-22 23:28:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3747520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrashLogic/pseuds/TrashLogic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Countless years change nothing, even if Kayle would have it seem so. Yet Morgana is not so deceived as her own sister.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And God did not spare even the Angels who had sinned

**Author's Note:**

> t r a s h

Strange to think that a world filled with such physically weak, short-lived creatures could provide the answers Morgana needed, could provide the means to a final end to the thousand-year war she had waged against her oppressors.

Such an unsuspecting world, and yet the future might be weighed on the secrets it held.

Morgana stood in the vast and ruined crater that the inhabitants of Valoran called the Crystal Scar, surveying the marks of history that were so clearly imprinted on the earth, in the air, and in the very leylines of the land itself.

 _Rune magic_. If it was truly capable of this...and when in the hands of mere mortals...well, if Morgana could master such magic, perhaps it would be cutting edge she needed to finally and fully overthrow the Maker.

Her musings were yet again briefly distracted by the tugging of her senses. Even here, she was not alone. She had not been alone in her travels for some time since leaving Noxus behind. Though perhaps it was finally time to call her out her silent spy.

“Your aura betrays you, sister. We are blood. In all of Runeterra, you could not hope to hide from me.”

Kayle came into view a few scant seconds later, feet hovering above the ground as her bright wings flapped easily, almost in mockery of what Morgana now lacked.

“Then you, too, should know I would sense you moving from your hideout.”

Morgana laughed, rich and derisive. “Regardless of what you think--or do not--of the people of this world, I would hardly call the city I have chosen to live in a hideout. I go about my daily life there in plain view, no different than you in Demacia. Were you so interested, you only need visit my residence.”

A vague noise of disgust emanated from beneath the golden helm, and Kayle drifted closer, one hand hovering over her still-sheathed sword of flames.

“Come now, Kayle, no need to be that way.” As if Kayle was capable of anything else. Capable of being anything but the Judicator. Yet still...Morgana had known the woman beneath the armor, and that woman remained, ever chasing her even now. “What do you garner  the humans make of us? Immortals, caught in a battle that has lasted for tens, hundreds of their lives. And sisters, at that. Nearly poetic, isn’t it?”

“Should I not end the story here and now then? Bring back the peace that you robbed the heavens of?”

A threat, but Morgana laughed in the face of it. It irritated Kayle. It had always irritated Kayle, when she thought her words were being so easily discarded, and Morgana did it deliberately now.

“You laugh at the threat on your own life?” Kayle loomed over her. “Perhaps I should correct such careless disregard.”

The piercing blue gaze was shadowed, impossible to make out, but Morgana still stared back, smiling in a show of ivory teeth. “You’d like that quite a bit, wouldn’t you? To ‘correct’ every...last...mistake...and don’t we both know it?”

She bared her teeth further. They were one in the same, even when placed against one another. What burned in Morgana--what had always burned in her--was a conflagration within her other half.

Morgana reached out, ever so slowly, and Kayle did not push her away. Her fingers curled beneath the edge of the helm, finding the strong jaw line that lurked beneath the faceless helmet.

A thousand years had not changed her, had not changed the soft press of skin that she knew so, so achingly well. For a moment her fingers cramped, caught between the mixed desire to again tenderly stroke that cheek, and to drive her sharpened talons into it.

It took a moment, but she relaxed, palm cupping Kayle’s chin, neither of them moving.

She could feel Kayle, feel her no differently than the blood that thrummed within her own veins. They were molded of the same feather, and Morgana suddenly relished in knowing that her sister was just as heatedly aware of her. Just as they had always been. Years and distance had done naught to dim it, but proximity ignited it.

A sudden chuckle left her of its own accord, directed at nothing, and yet everything.

“I _know_ the flesh and blood that seeks to hide under this shell of armor, Kayle.” She hummed for a moment, low and pensive. “I know perhaps even better than you...how desire is lit in the tinder alongside fury. And unlike you, I do not delude myself into forgetting the ‘transgressions’ of the body, of the passions that blood sets to flame within blood.”

She eased her grip as she spoke, tracing her nails along the curve of Kayle’s jaw in a whispered remembrance of events long past between them...ones that they had both willingly partaken in.

Kayle slapped away her hand, voice now as tight as the grip on the hilt of her sword.

“You presume to know too much.”

Morgana _did_ laugh at that paltry defense, amused. “Whatever the feared scourge of the heavens needs to help her fall asleep in the dark hours of the night. But I know, sister. And I remember. Even if you refuse to. I am not the one who avoids my reflection in the mirrors.”

There was nothing that could be said back that would not ring hollow in both of their ears, so Kayle turned to glide away, calling out but once as she took her leave. “Do not think you will have your way in whatever you are up to, Morgana. Justice presides over all, and I am watching you.”

Of the latter, she had no doubt.

 

* * *

 

 

Her sources had not lied when they warned Morgana of the thin veil here. Even now, countless human lives later, the mark of rune magic burned through the fabric of time and space, ripping open the cloth that normally separated life and death.

Whatever could have possessed the Ruined King to order his rune mages to do such a thing? But then, these mortal did seem so blindingly short-sighted, perhaps a side effect of their tragically brief lives.

Still, even in such cursed lands as the Shadow Isles, there was knowledge to be gleaned, experience to be had.

And visitors to entertain.

Morgana inhaled deeply, studying the the markings etched into the ancient altar one last time before calling out to the suspiciously quiet fog that covered the dark forest.

“Were you going to remain a voyeur for this entire trip as well, Kayle dear? You always did boast of action, and yet it seems your guilty pleasure rather lies in watching.”

She emerged from the black mists like a specter, even if decidedly out of place in her gleaming armor with its bright red plume. She did not speak as she closed the distance between the two of them, clearly favoring silence until they were but a foot apart.

Then Kayle repaid the favor of their prior encounter, reaching out to snatch Morgana’s jaw, though in a far more iron and unforgiving grip. “Mayhap I should serve you your sentence here and now, in these fog-shrouded isles far removed from the humanity that claims the mainlands.”

Morgana felt her breath catch, though for different reasons than what Kayle would think. So her sister was in that kind of mood today.

“Careful,” cautioned Morgana, smirking upwards. “Even you can feel the hole in the veil here between life and death. Who knows what summonings could come searching if you call on your powers now?”

“I fear nothing of those who would pervert the order of life and death.” Perhaps it was the truth, yet even so, Kayle did not yet draw her sword, did not coat herself in the golden and twinkling magic of their Maker.

“Yet still you stay. Interesting.”

Even though hidden beneath her helm, Kayle’s disdain was palpable.

“You think it interesting that I refuse to relinquish my oath to bring you to justice.”

“I think it interesting you abandon the war solely to follow me. You abandon how many for the sake of tracking but one.”

Kayle’s wings fluttered, bringing life to wind in the otherwise still fog. “Do not flatter yourself, _sister_. I was named Judicator. You might think to find new powers,” She gestured to the dead land around them. “But you _cannot_ escape your judgement day. And I will be there for when it happens.”

“No doubt you dream of such a day. Does it excite you? Thinking of me so. Like our sins of the flesh, forbidden purity now turned to forbidden corruption.”

A wordless noise rumbled from beneath the expressionless armor, dangerous and wild.

“Come now, have you not thought of those nights we spent sharing beds, limbs intertwined and no longer separated by such superficial barriers as cloth? How we knew one another in the most intimate of ways. And even now does not your blood call to blood?”

“ _Morgana_!”

She continued onward. “We were born of the same thought and breath from the Maker, and in those moments, you were given a taste of completion, no different than I. Tell me you do not think back, do not envision what you would do now if given the chance. Tell me if it is the truth, unless you are afraid to speak it.”

The paper thin vestiges of control that Morgana had been steadily working loose over the years came undone. Kayle did not draw her sword, no, did not attack with her famed lethal intent, but in a moment she was on Morgana, fighting and grabbing, eager to dominate.

Kayle slammed her into the hard granite slab of the altar, pinning her wrists in the grasp of one hand. Her helm had been knocked loose in the brief skirmish, and her silky locks of blonde hair spilled down across her shoulders, dangling over Morgana.

She could slay her, here and now, yet she did not. Her eyes, hazy and unfocused, gradually honed in on Morgana’s lips.

Morgana licked them, slowly and deliberately. “Tell me sister, what would you have done if given the second chance.”

“Do not presume…” muttered Kayle, but her words trailed off as her head dipped downward, finally and at last capturing Morgana in a kiss as tentative as the one they had first shared millennia ago.

It set Morgana alight, and yet all the same she could not help to stop the laugh that bubbled up through her, that made Kayle freeze and pull back.

“You dare to laugh, even now. Even here when I have you at my mercy.”

“Perhaps this is exactly where I wanted to be, Kayle. Laughing as you, the famed Judicator, lacks the resolve to even take what’s right in front of her.”

The grip on her wrists tightened enough to grind bone.

But it was Kayle who snapped.

“Heretic,” she snarled, her face contorted but still beautiful even in its now unchained rage. “Dissenter and preacher of lies!”

As if to punctuate the point, she tore at Morgana’s intricately laced bodice with one hand. One armored thigh pressed between Morgana’s legs, forcing the fabric to bunch up.

“Beyond even the hope redemption…” Kayles voice growled at her neck, biting into the skin there a moment later.

“I don’t seek your redemption.”

“Then you will bow to justice.”

To Kayle. For Morgana knew that in her mind, Kayle _was_ justice...an irony not lost upon her.

Kayle’s hand, covered in cold armor and hot leather, scraped across Morgana’s breast, her sternum, down the lean sculpt of her abdomen, settling there yet daring to continue no lower.

“So afraid to touch me with your bare hands, sister? Afraid of the power of my so-called corrupt--”

The effect was even more pronounced than Morgana could have predicted;  Kayle let loose a wordless howl of wrath, covering Morgana’s mouth with her own a moment later. Her tongue was bold, domineering...and Morgana yielded to the silent demands, trying not to smirk into Kayle’s unknowing lips.

Difficult enough anyway when Kayle caught her lower lip between teeth and dragged across it hard enough to draw blood.

“Afraid?” she thundered, as if a challenge to be met. Without pausing, she dipped her gloved fingers between Morgana’s thighs, pushing in without further pretenses.

Morgana gasped and rocked into Kayle, moan leaving her before she even realized it.

The crystalline gaze burned holes into her, unblinking in its sadistic fury.

“Rebellious sinner,” she uttered, seemingly pleased. As if Morgana needed her. As if Morgana got off on the administering of her righteous justice. Some things never changed over the countless centuries.

Kayle always was as short-sighted as the mortals she was now forced to live amidst. Not that Morgana was about to correct that mistake. Not now. Not when she had Kayle exactly where she wanted her.

She moaned desperately, just as she knew she was expected to. And the reaction was exactly as predicted. With Kayle there was no teasing, no stretching things out. Morgana felt herself pushed clear to the edge, and then tumbled her over it, back arching and spots of white blanking out her vision at Kayle’s persistent goading.

In the silence afterward, Kayle loomed over her, gasping for breath even harder than Morgana, and Morgana felt something vicious shiver through her in latent victory. The change must have been apparent on her lips, in her eyes, for Kayle’s brow suddenly darkened, nostrils flaring and a sneer marring her pretty face.

Morgana acted before her sister could.

She broke the adamantine grasp that she had allowed to trap her wrists, reaching down to drag Kayle’s other hand up to their field of vision, to reveal the offending evidence of desires produced and serviced.

“Did you really think this wasn’t exactly what I wanted?” taunted Morgana, drawing out her words.

There was a moment of silence. Shock rippled across Kayle--shock, embarrassment, and then of course the resultant outrage, violent and self-righteous. Even beneath the layers of protective armor, Morgana could feel her muscles tense and retaliate, striking to lash out.

She would have none of that.

In the space of a second, their positions were reversed, and Morgana stood towering over the altar and her sister. Amazing how readily the power in these lands could be tapped into, binding her overconfident sister helplessly in place.

A necessary test, but one that she could feel stirring the proverbial interests of the veil. Already whispers trickled into the back of her mind, the touch of death, the offers of vengeance toward the divine being stretched out before her. She frowned and pushed back such... _mortal_...temptations, watching as Kayle struggled and strained, caught in place.

“You... _you_ _perverse_ \--”

“Yes, me.” Morgana cut off her sister’s furious retorts. “Me, Morgana the Transgressor, the Fallen, the misguided and obstinate who needs to be broken like a fractious colt in order to see the one holy and glorious way to the world.”

She wasted no time in undoing the latches of Kayle’s heavy armor, until cloth and metal alike gave way to a landscape of muscle that was her back. It was unblemished, just like her wings, just as Morgana had been once.

Morgana let her fingers trail over the snow white plumes of feathers, soft, quivering beneath her touch. She could feel the rapid pounding of the large artery that fed life into the wing, just as could feel and hear the sharp intake of breath from Kayle at her slow, tactile investigation. It would be so easy to just dig her nails in, to rend feathers from flesh and leave her just as permanently crippled as Morgana.

But that was so crude, and far too petty.

Morgana drew her fingertips lightly over the all too sensitive region where feathers melded into the smooth skin of Kayle’s back. Slow, deliberate torture until her wings were shaking and trembling frantically against the shadowing restraints that held them down. But it was not enough.

Baring her teeth, Morgana dug in her nails, raking them the expanse of back before her, leaving wide, angry red weals.

Kayle jerked, hips grinding into the stone altar and a choked noise finally escaping her recalcitrant throat. That was better.

Morgana’s thumb ghosted across the stern but generous line of Kayle’s lower lip, testing, prodding.

“Kayle the Judicator, Kayle the Righteous, Kayle of the Flaming Sword, who administers the justice of the heavens...who would track down even her corrupted sister, the sin to their shared flesh. You would have me kneel before you, wouldn’t you, sister of mine. Have me kneel and beg and plead for your forgiveness, tears in my eyes.”

Kayle’s lips eased open, and Morgana teased the tip of her tongue, but only for a moment.

“Penance…” Kayle managed, jaw clenching.

But of course.

“Penance of your choosing. Fitting for the crimes I’ve perpetrated. Chained up and powerless, at your divine mercy.” Morgana gritted her teeth, but then trailed her hand up the inside of Kayle’s thigh. “Doing whatever you commanded of me. This is what you want, what you let yourself dream of.”

Her hand hovered, nails digging into the skin there.

“Or is it?”

“...yes…” A bare whisper of an admission, but enough. 

Kayle was slick with desire, and Morgana’s fingers slid easily against her, as if made to be there. Kayle groaned, pushing into the touch immediately, ever demanding, even when bound and restrained. Typical...always with the illusion of control. The need for it.

Morgana let her have it, for a time. She moved her fingertips in obedient patterns just so, just how Kayle wanted, urging her closer and closer still.

And then Morgana pulled back entirely, stepping away from Kayle and the altar alike.

Her absence had an immediate effect.

“Mor-Morgana…” Kayle’s blue eyes were unusually glazed, wild, even desperate. “You can’t just... _pleas_ \--”

She cut herself off, but it was too late. Morgana smiled, victorious. “ _‘Please_ ’? How far the mighty have already fallen...to beg from a sinner such as I.”

Kayle’s jaw clenched, she struggled anew against the shadow chains, and yet there was no hiding the carnal _need_ behind it all, and the welling up of clear and unadulterated shame.

Morgana would leave her with that, and only that.

She had already gotten precisely what she came here for, and more, and the rich pleasure in seeing Kayle have to live with her own just deserts, well...she would enjoy watching her sister writhe over the next few centuries, caught in her unavoidable ignominy.

“Thanks, sister dear. Certainly one of the best I’ve had in the past thousand years. Afraid you’ll have to... _take care_...of yourself. I’d say to think of me while you do it, but we both you already will. One way or another. After all, we’ll both remember how much you wanted this, how much you even begged for it.” She paused, taking a moment to relish Kayle’s red and impotent rage of embarrassment. “The bindings should wear off in a little while. Of course, I’d recommend you don’t stay too long. Tapping into this island’s energy seems to have captured the...interest...of the spirit veil here. Until we meet again, then, Kayle. Try not to think of me too much. Though, you can be certain I’ll be thinking of you.”


End file.
